Page 19 of Prince of Vice

"Time to face the sharks," I mutter to myself, grabbing my keys and heading out the door.

The drive to the hotel is a blur, my mind already anticipating the conversations and connections waiting for me within its walls. As I park and exit my car, I notice the parade of stuffy suits filing into the hotel lobby - other lawyers, each one projecting an air of self-importance. I swallow down my apprehension; this is where I need to be if I want to succeed in this city.

Entering the hotel, I fill out a nametag, affixing it to my blazer. My last name stands out boldly against the fabric, a declaration of my presence. I really don't enjoy going to these meetings, but building a client base and making connections in the city are essential for my career. The Boston Bar Association represents both opportunity and challenge – a world of power players and legal minds that could make or break me.

As I step into the bustling conference room, I take a moment to survey the scene from my perspective. The space is filled with the low hum of conversation, punctuated by laughter and the clink of glasses. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over linen-covered tables adorned with floral centerpieces. A lavish buffet lines one wall, an array of tempting dishes sending wafts of delicious scents toward me.

"Isabella! Long time no see!" A familiar voice draws my attention away from the surroundings. It's Janet, a colleague from law school who now works at a prestigious firm downtown.

"Janet, it's great to see you," I say, embracing her warmly. "How have you been?"

"Busy as always," she replies, rolling her eyes playfully. "But enough about me! I heard you're working on the Maldonado case. How's that going?"

I hesitate, not wanting to divulge too much. "It's complicated," I admit, my voice low, as if sharing a secret. "Primo is...a challenging client."

"Ooh, mysterious," she teases, raising an eyebrow. "Well, good luck with that. Say, have you met Daniel? He just joined our firm last month."

Janet introduces me to the eager young lawyer beside her. I shake his hand and exchange pleasantries. I feel a mix of pride and frustration at the meeting. I know where Janet works. Her firm pays what's known as Cravath scale salaries. Even a first-year associate like Daniel makes far more money than I do, and the most he's tasked with is creating meaningless checklists or pulling together signature pages.

I try and remind myself that I didn't choose to become a lawyer for the money. That's what landed my father in an early grave. No, I chose to become a lawyer to redeem my family name and try and do good in the world. Money be damned. Even if I can barely afford my rent, I think to myself sadly.

"Let's grab coffee when things calm down, okay?" Janet asks. I nod and smile at her, and Daniel continues on their way.

"Isabella Moretti, right?" A voice interrupts my reverie, and I turn to see a young man extending his hand. His confident grin is more suited to a used car salesman than a lawyer. "I've heard about you. Greg's been talking."

"Ah," I smile tightly, taking his hand and giving it a quick shake. "You must be from his office. I can't quite recall your name..."

"Andrew," he supplies, not missing a beat. "And yeah, I work with Greg. So, how's it feel knowing you're gonna lose the Maldonado case?"

"Excuse me?" I bristle, clenching my fists at my sides. The audacity of this man – this child – is infuriating.

"Relax, sweetheart," he chuckles, leaning in closer. "Just having a little fun. Besides, it's not your fault you got stuck with a losing case."

"Isabella!" Greg's voice booms across the room as he strides toward us, a predatory grin on his face. "We were just discussing your inevitable defeat."

"Greg," I say through gritted teeth, attempting to maintain my composure. "Always a pleasure."

"Come on, Isabella, don't be so serious," he mocks, placing a patronizing hand on my shoulder. "We both know you've got no chance in hell of winning this one."

"Is that so?" I retort, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rage boiling inside me. "Well, I guess we'll just have to see how it plays out in court, won't we?"

Overhearing our conversation, a woman appears at my side, her eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She gives me an encouraging nod before turning her icy gaze to Greg and Andrew.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I realize who it is. Tammy was one of my favorite professors in law school. I met her my first semester, and we developed a quick friendship. Since that time, she's remained a faithful mentor to me, always there for me in my times of need.

"Perhaps you gentlemen should focus on your cases instead of harassing my protégée," she says coolly, her tone as sharp as a freshly-honed blade. "I'm sure you have plenty of work to do."

"Tammy, always such a pleasure," Greg replies with a forced smile, the tension between them palpable.

"Likewise." Tammy's eyes never leave his, the air thick with unspoken animosity. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have more important things to discuss."

As if on cue, the room falls quiet, and the meeting is called to order. The relief that I feel is palpable; I can finally breathe again. Tammy squeezes my shoulder reassuringly, her touch a comforting anchor amidst this sea of hostility.

"Give me a call later, Isabella," she whispers, her eyes warm and sincere. "We'll catch up properly soon."

"Thank you, Tammy," I murmur, my gratitude evident in my voice. With a final nod, she takes her seat, leaving me to find my own amongst the crowd.

The clink of silverware and the murmur of conversation fill the air as I make my way to my assigned table. The scent of roasted chicken and garlic-infused vegetables wafts from the nearby buffet, tempting my stomach even as my mind races with thoughts of Primo's case and my encounter with Greg. Every polished surface shimmers under the golden glow of the chandeliers, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the crisp white tablecloths.

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